


A Simple Moment

by kittening



Series: APH Rarepair Week 2020 [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: APH Rarepair Week 2020, F/M, Fluff, Slow Dancing, baby Romano
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:13:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25851910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittening/pseuds/kittening
Summary: Spain and Belgium spend the evening dancing together.
Relationships: Belgium/Spain (Hetalia)
Series: APH Rarepair Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787080
Kudos: 12





	A Simple Moment

It was past midnight, and Spain and Belgium had each had more than a few glasses of wine by now, eventually wandering outside to keep from bothering the rest of the villa. Belgium was smiling, and Spain couldn’t help but stare, appreciative. She was smiling more often than not, but often it seemed forced, put on for politeness’ sake, or to humor or brother or little Romano and keep the peace. In these moments when the two of them found a moment to be alone together, she seemed to let her guard down, to relax. It was a rare privilege to see her like this. 

“It’s improper, keeping a lady up this late,” Belgium murmured. “If my brother found us…” 

Spain grinned at her. Her brother was long asleep by now, along with the rest of the villa; they both knew that. This time of the night belonged only to them. “Just one more song,  _ hermosa _ . It’s a good one.” He started to strum his guitar, playing an intricate, rhythmic melody. “I learned this song from a lovely woman in  Málaga, although I couldn’t quite match her singing,” Spain said cheerfully. “You know how amazing some of the  _ cantantes  _ are; I could never compare.”

Belgium laughed quietly. “If you want a compliment, you can just say so. I like your singing.”

“No such thing,” Spain insisted. “I only mean to praise the talents of my people. Besides, if I wanted a compliment, it would be for my beautiful guitar playing. I’ve been practicing for hundreds of years, you know…” 

At some point Belgium rose to her feet and began to dance barefoot on the red brick patio. She seemed to be dancing  _ sevillanas _ in a soft, wine-induced daze, twirling across the patio in her long dress--Spain found himself smiling as he watched her. He wasn’t playing a  _ sevillanas  _ song, and Belgium was vaguely spinning more than dancing--but she looked more than perfect, smiling up at the sky with a vibrant flush to her cheeks. 

“Let me dance with you,  _ señorita _ ,” Spain said. Belgium stopped spinning slowly, offering a lazy, affectionate smile as an answer. Spain joined her on the patio, gently taking her hand and letting his palm linger against her lower back, just low enough to be scandalous if either of them truly cared about propriety. He led her in a clumsy waltz, with Belgium’s faint humming carrying over the sounds of their footsteps, her voice sweet and carefree, and her perfume wafting slowly along the dry breeze, filling the air with the enciting scent of rose and citrus. 

“What the hell!” A sharp voice rang out, and Spain and Belgium instantly broke apart. 

Romano wandered onto the patio, looking half-asleep--the young boy’s dark, reddish hair was a mess of curls, and he rubbed his eyes blearily as he spoke. “I knew it was you two, you jerks, keeping me awake with your stupid music and stomping around--you didn’t even ask if I wanted to join.” 

“Do you want to dance, Romano?” Belgium asked pleasantly. 

“No,” Romano snapped. “I was just saying--”

Belgium exchanged a look with Spain, a mixture of fondness and amusement in her eyes. She didn’t seem disappointed at being interrupted; but then, surely there would be another night when Romano would truly be sleeping soundly. They had all the time they could ever need. 

“Come and dance with me,” Belgium insisted, sweeping Romano off his feet and into her arms. The boy made an indignant noise in response, but even as he squirmed in Belgium’s embrace, she twirled cheerfully across the patio, ignoring the boy’s squealed protests. Spain was unconcerned--he could see the flush of Romano’s cheeks even in the low light, from across the patio. He laughed to himself as he sat back down and pulled his guitar into his lap. He played softly, only loud enough for Belgium and Romano to hear, strumming songs he’d collected from across his country, songs that sounded like home. 

**Author's Note:**

> What do you mean this is ridiculously late haha? I don't know what you're talking about :)


End file.
